


Two birds on a briar

by Nosferotica



Category: Star Trek, Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies), Star Trek: The Original Series
Genre: Alternate Universe - Historical, Alternate Universe - Medieval, Courtly Love, Feudalism, Friends to Lovers, Historical Ficiton, M/M, Medieval mysticism, Medieval slice of life?? is that something, More characters to be added later, Multi, Mutual Pining, No one's dying from the plague don't worry, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Rating May Change, References to Medieval literature, Romance, True Love, they are so in love it's ridiculous
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-03-26
Updated: 2019-09-20
Packaged: 2019-12-18 07:19:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 19,010
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18245057
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nosferotica/pseuds/Nosferotica
Summary: They first meet during the spring of 1298; Spock is an heir to Earl Sarek and James is a squire under the guidance of Sir Christopher Pike. Here's how they fall in love, make friends and navigate the complexities of medieval society.A semi-realistic medieval au about Jim, Spock and a bunch of other Star Trek characters, lovingly written by a soon-to-be history student.





	1. As the nightingale sings

**Author's Note:**

> Did I start writing this because Spock's hair is kinda similar to the one that was popular in the 1200s and early 1300s? Maybe so. Did it get a bit out of hand? Absolutely.  
> Come talk to me on [tumblr](https://inosfe.tumblr.com/)

_Érec parted from his host,_

_Filled with the desire to boast_

_Of his exploits, at the court;_

_Of the contest he had sought:_

_He has joy of his adventure,_

_For by him rides a lovely creature,_

_Wise, courteous and debonair._

“Master?”

_He feasts his eyes, she is so fair;_

_The more he looks, the more she pleases,_

_He cannot help bestowing kisses._

_He rides willingly at her side;_

_Seeing her fills him with pride._

_He gazes at her blonde hair, and-_

“Master Spock?”

Scrambling to hide the small book in the folds of his surcoat Spock whipped around just in time to face the nervous servant who appeared in the narrow clearing between the heavy growths of roses and herbs. He had been hiding away in the manor's courtyard, trying to find some privacy between the prying eye's of the servants and the ebb and flow of dignitaries and gentry vying for his father's favors. He had evidently failed.

“Yes?”

“His Grace has requested your presence”

“I shall be with him anon. You may leave.”

The servant shuffled uncomfortably under his gaze.

“Sir, he was quite...adamant.” 

“I will make haste.”

The servant seemed satisfied with his answer and bowed swiftly before taking his leave. Had they caught him? Spock uncovered the book and inspected it idly while considering his fate. It was a prized possession of his mothers, one he fully intended to give back as soon as possible. _Érec et Énide_ , tanned leather covering with decorative corner pieces resembling roses. It smelled faintly of lavender and something else he could not place. He was not entirely sure as to why he had taken it. Curiosity perhaps. A wish to understand his mother better. She was a kindly lady, with soft smiles and warm eyes that could see right through him. She had made an effort to be present in his life, more than most other women of her station, even when it was inconvenient for her.

He frowned at the book and returned it into the safety of his surcoat, tucking it under his belt with care. What a frivolous and sentimental thing. It that had little place in his carefully maintained world of logic and sense, crafted during years of study and education, under the stern scrutiny of his father. Still, the smell lingered on the tips of his fingers like a reassuring touch. He turned to head inside.

. 

“Father.”

Earl Sarek glanced up from his work to look at his son, who stood ramrod straight in the doorway to his small cabinet.

“Spock. I am to visit Sir Christopher Pike at my earliest convenience to discuss an urgent matter. You will accompany me.”

Spock blinked but did not press for details.

“Milet will aid you in your preparations. We leave tomorrow.”

Sarek looked back down and continued with his work. Sensing that the conversation was over, Spock gave a quick bow of his head and left the small room. He was about to take the winding stairs down to his bedchambers when he came face to face with his mother. Spock took in her huddled form with concern. Lady Amanda was wrapped up in her large fur-lined cloak despite the warmth of the sun through the small window openings and the slender hand that came up to hold the fabric in place was pale. Her face however, peeking out from beneath her wimple, lit up in a bright smile when she saw him.

“Spock!”

“Greetings mother. Are you well?”

She laughed gently and brought a hand up to cup his cheek as if he were still a child of five and not a grown man who would in time take his father's place in the courts. He shifted a bit under the touch but did not push her away.  

“Of course I am, my son. Is your father still working? I had hoped to speak with him.”

“Yes he is.” She nodded in answer but stayed still, inspecting his face. Then she sighed and brushed through his fringe with her fingers, carefully smoothing it out. Spock frowned at her.

"Mother-"

"Yes, yes I know Spock" she laughed and let his fringe be. "We cannot have Viscount Liefing see the future earl being fussed about by his mother." 

The lady patted his cheek affectionately and brushed past him towards the cabinet. The she stopped to look at him over her shoulder, hand resting on the door.

“Was there something else?”

Her smile was warm but there was still something playful in her eyes.

“You may keep the book.”

.

Sarek was not pleased with the journey. Spring might have been well underway, but the wind was still crisp and the path was muddy and slippery, which had their horses heaving and tossing their heads in frustration. It was also the reason as to why they arrived far later than expected. He sighed and added ‘road conditions’ to the mental list of menial things he would have to take up with Sir Christopher. Luckily the manor house was already visible on the hill, rising over pastures and small cottages. Serfs were working the fields, sowing the last seeds of the season in preparation for summer to come.

To his surprise, the yard of the manor was empty when they arrived.  

“Spock. Find us a-” He was cut short by a squeak and some rustling from the thick growth of honeysuckle next to the road. Sarek’s horse recoiled only slightly at the sound and kept in his place. Spock was not as lucky. I-Chaya, his otherwise trustworthy palfrey, bucked in panic at the noise and sent Spock tumbling off him in alarm. A young man rushed out from the bushes, face as red as the fine velvet of Sarek’s cloak.

 

“I pray you forgive me, your grace! I was- Well that is I-” he stammered out his explanation, face paling at the sight of Sareks unimpressed expression. Finally, he swallowed and bowed his knee.

“I am James Kirk, squire to Sir Christopher. I was to assist you at your arrival, your grace.”

“You will begin by assisting my son.” His face was red again when he noticed the dazed looking young man still sitting on the ground, in his new cotehardie no less. To say that Sarek was displeased was an understatement. The squire rushed forward, almost tripping over himself to offer the stunned man his arm, which he took without much fuss.

“Forgive me, Sir” he mumbled in embarrassment .

Spock, with all the grace of a young lord with the best education that money could buy, simply bowed his head in a greeting.

“It is of no concern.”

Sarek turned away from the undignified scene at the sound of a door creaking. In the opening stood knight Christopher Pike, trying to not laugh at the display to spare Sarek some dignity.

“I greet you, Sir Christopher.”

“And I you, my liege! I see you have already had the great misfortune of meeting my squire.” He said good-naturedly, while waving out some servants to care for their horses. “He is not so bad. Just a bit out of it sometimes.” He had always been too soft on his staff and he was clearly very fond of the fumbling squire. Sarek frowned. If this was the state of the future knights of the kingdom then God help them all. “You must come in! I have an excellent spiced wine that I cannot in good consciousness, or health, drink alone.” 

.

James tried not to gape at the man in front of him, unsuccessfully. He was almost the polar opposite of him; tall and limber, long graceful fingers holding onto his arm for support. Dark silky hair peaked out from beneath his hood, well trimmed and maintained. It made James feel self-conscious of his own hair, wild and untamed, only cut when it got snagged in his mail coif. Lord Spock turned his head to look at James, eyes a deep shade of chestnut, expression unreadable. He took a quick step back to give the man some space. There was no need for him to further upset a potential future employer by gawking at his son like a fish on dry land. He had seen no one emanate this much authority and dignity with one glance. Is that what real nobles went to school for? Instead of sucking it up to some backwater pretenders with not so much as a nail of land to their name? Sure he knew how to play that game but he’d never been particularly great at it. Too much of a brute, Finnegan would tease. He swallowed thickly and prayed to whichever saint was feeling generous that he would not mess this up. Well, much more than he had already, anyway.

“If you would follow me, Sir Spock. I presume you wish to rest after your journey.” He swallowed again. That sounded all right, respectful but with a bit of authority to show they were on the same page. Why was this suddenly so hard?

“Go ahead, Sir James. I will follow.” 

.

Spock was not sure why his father had insisted that he come along if he did not intend for him to join the meeting. Instead, he was left sitting in the quarters of Sir James.The young squire, who was also excluded from the negotiations, had hastily pulled forth the only chair in the room for Spock to sit in, and was now standing stiffly next to a narrow window at the other end of the room.

At least the wine was good, he mused, sipping idly from the cup Sir James had given him. He looked up at the young man who was fidgeting with the sleeves of his green tunic. Spock drank in his visage surreptitiously. He looked like he had stepped right out of one of his mother books; with golden locks of hair like a halo in the light of the afternoon sun, skin tan and smooth like sand. Spock could tell he was strong, even beneath all of the clothing. His tunic was straining against his arms and the belt on his waist accentuated his broad chest and shoulders.   

“If I may inquire, Sir James, what were you doing in those bushes?”

He finally met Spock’s eyes and gave him a bashful smile.

“If you must know, Sir” he huffed in embarrassment. “I fell asleep while waiting for you.”

“Then the fault is ours. We would have arrived sooner but there were complications. There is no reason for you to be ashamed.” He did not know why he forgave the man so easily. There were still mud stains on his hoses and there was a dull pain on his side from where he landed. Nevertheless, his logic was sound, even if it clashed against what was expected of his station.

“That is very kind”

“It is merely logical, Sir.”

Silence descended on the room again. Then the young man spoke up once more.

“You may call me James in private. As friends do”

Spock contemplated the offer and found it agreeable.

“In that case you may call me Spock.”

.

Spock found the squires company pleasing, despite the circumstances of their initial meeting. When his embarrassment had died down a bit James had turned out to be an otherwise confident and clever man. Not only was he well versed in the matters of law, theology and mathematics, but also seemed to have an understanding of the arts as well as military tactics. Conversing with him was stimulating; while Spock had a near perfect grasp of the theoretical, James was able to apply it practically. It was a comfortable push and pull, a far cry from the stern teachings of the clergy that he was so used to.  

James owned his very own board of chess and offered to play a few games with him in his bedchamber when they had finished supper. They were seated on his modest bed, speaking in lowered voices so they would not disturb the older men.  

“So. Spock.” he said while taking one of his pawns. “A foreign name?”

“Yes. My father was employed by the court before, and then moved here to tend this land when he married my mother. It was a fortuitous position for both.”

“A marriage of convenience, then?”

Spock glanced at James curiously, moving a rook.

“What else would it be?”

“Not love, I take it?” It was getting hard to make out his face in the evening light, but Spock was sure he saw a smile. He was jesting, then. Spock had to admit, he was never particularly good at this side of socializing.

“Father has always maintained that it was the logical choice at the time”

Only when James almost moved one of Spock’s pieces by accident did they take a break to light a candle. Right when they were settling back in place the door opened. Spock’s father’s head appeared in the dark of the room beyond.

“We shall leave the day after tomorrow. You will rest in Sir James’ quarters.” He said, face set in a grim expression.

“As you wish, father.” The door closed again with no further exchange of words and they were left to their game once more.

“His grace does not like me very much, does he?” James said. Spock glanced up at him briefly while considering his next move. “He is a hard man to please, but he is not without reason. I am sure he would find you an admirable person if he were to make closer acquaintance with you.” James leaned back against the wall with a playful smile on his lips.

“Truly?”

“I am quite certain.”

There was another long stretch of silence between them. The light of the flickering candle danced on James’ face, making him look otherworldly and strange in the otherwise dark setting. In the quiet Spock could faintly hear the song of a nightingale outside, accompanied by the distant sounds of servants rushing to complete their tasks, and the relaxed breathing of his companion. The night air was creeping in slowly, cold against his skin, but he found that he did not mind it.

“I do think it was love.”

James looked up in surprise at the sudden disruption.

“My father. I think he loves her.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Both of them are somewhere around the age of 19 here, just for reference. This fic borrows a bit from both TOS and AOS, so it shouldn't really matter which one you prefer.  
> The small bit in the beginning is from Érec et Énide by Chrétien De Troyes, translated into English by A. S. Kline, found on www.poetryintranslation.com


	2. A single soul

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which the boys get physical (not like that) and I spend way too long researching medieval sword-fighting manuals, only to use almost none of it.

 

 

_“To the query, ‘’What is a friend?’’ Aristotle’s reply was ‘’A single soul dwelling in two bodies.”_

“You would expect a manor of this size to have a few rooms to spare for guests” James said apologetically. He was sitting cross-legged on a small straw mattress, looking up at Spock who had taken the bed and was now stripped down to his undershirt and coif. He had offered to sleep on the floor instead or to at least have shared the bed but the squire refused. At least he got the young man to take one of the better blankets with him.  
“I assure you, this arrangement is sufficient.” He observed James where he sat, still fully clothed. “Do you always sleep in your overgarments?” He blinked.

“Do I…? Oh! No, I still have duties to tend to before I can go to bed.” Right on cue there was a small knock at the door. A young boy, who could be no older than 8 years of age, was standing in the doorway. “Master Kirk?.” he almost whispered, eyes firmly cast downwards.

“Right away Peter. You may leave.” Then James turned back to Spock.“Do not mind him, I think he finds you… intimidating. This may take a while. Please do not stay up for my sake.”

He nodded in response and James left.

.

“So. What do you think of the Earl and his lord son?”  
James risked a glance at his masters face to deduce what kind of answer he wanted, but his expression was unreadable. He settled for the usual.  
“They seem to be honorable.”

Christopher did not answer for a while and James set to work on removing his clothes, checking for anything that needed mending or cleaning. When he got to the straps that fastened his hose to the waist of his breeches Pike lifted a hand to stop him.

“James. Face me, if you would.I want you to speak as my equal in this.” He straightened up at this and met his master’s gaze, confused but curious. “I need to know what you think of them, not as a subject but as a person. When you are knighted, you will need to know who to trust and when.” James gaped at him. “So truly, what do you make of them?”  
He took a careful step forward to see Christopher properly, eyes glued to the older man’s face, looking for any trace of humor or deceitfulness. He found none.

“I cannot say for certain what I think of his grace, as I have only spoken to him briefly. He seems... austere.

”And what of his son? You spent quite a lot of time in his company today. What did you observe?” James considered.

“His mind is like no other. He pursues all things with dignity and careful calculation.” A pause. “He also plays a ruthless game of chess. I only managed to win twice.”

Christopher chuckled at this, though his eyes remained serious. "I see we finally have someone who can beat you at that thing.” Then he sighed and gave his squire a small smile.

“Very well, James. I will take the rest from here. Sleep well.” 

.

The Earl and Sir Christopher went back to their discussions almost immediately after morning mass and Spock and James, who still had not been asked to join them, were left to their own devices. That is why Spock found himself seated on a low fence in the courtyard, observing James training by himself. He was fast and dangerous, moving like a flash of light in the morning sun. He struck hard, leaving large dents in a training dummy that was clearly not sturdy enough to withstand the full power of the knight in training.

“Do you have any skill in blades?” he suddenly called out to Spock after a hard swing that sent a part of the dummy flying against the manor wall.

“I have had some practice, though not as much as you, I suspect.” It was true; any nobleman worth his land had at least a grasp of combat, if for no other reason than self-preservation. But not like this. James shook the mail coif off of his head and gave a dazzling smile to Spock, more confident than the day before. There was something disconcerting in the contrast between the rosy cheeks, a wide smile and light tufts of hair sticking out from underneath the arming cap, and the deadly force he had witnessed only moments earlier. It was also undeniably exhilarating.

“This must not be very exciting for you.” James sighed, running a gloved hand over his forehead to wipe off some sweat.

“On the contrary, I find your company most intriguing.” James gave him a disbelieving smile. Spock crossed his arms and regarded him with another one of his unreadable expressions.

“Then perhaps you would like to spar with me, my lord.”

He considered the suggestion tentatively. There was a devious twinkle James’ eyes.

“I will do my utmost to ensure you are not hurt.”

“I assure you that won’t be necessary.” Spock answered, willingly taking the bait. “Very well, Sir. I am amenable to this.”

The boy Peter, who Spock now knew to be a page of Sir Christopher’s, armed him and gave them both blunt practice swords at James’ command. They soon found that they fought very much in the same way as they played chess; Spock’s form was impeccable and precise, preferring to stay on the defense while James was unpredictable and erratic. He sought out every gap and weakness in Spock’s stance and exploited them unsparingly. Despite James very clearly already being exhausted from his earlier training, Spock soon found himself disarmed and knocked off balance by a well-placed blow to his right foot.

"Are you hurt, Sir?” The squire was leaning over him, lifting his helmet to get a better look at the young noble at his feet. Instead of answering Spock hooked one of his legs behind James’ left knee and brought him tumbling down next to him. He gave an undignified shriek and then burst out laughing, rolling over to give playful kick to his side. Spock allowed himself a small smile in response. Then he was being pulled back up by a strong arm and almost immediately challenged to a second round, which he gladly accepted.   

The two older men were observing them from the safety of the wooden balcony that encircled the courtyard. Sarek was as hard to read as ever, though he wasn’t frowning as much as he had been the day before. He looked more thoughtful than anything.  

“Would you consider the arrangement feasible, your grace?”

Sarek gave his son one last look and then turned his attention to Christopher. There was an uncharacteristic uncertainty to his voice when he answered.

“There is much to be considered. I cannot force him to accept it as he is by all legal bearings an adult. Although-” another bout of laughter echoed through the courtyard “-I doubt he will reject the offer.”

Christopher hummed thoughtfully. The young men were taking a break for the time being, with Peter serving them something out of a bottle that looked suspiciously like the one that had disappeared from the pantry last week. James had discarded his helmet and was sitting face to face with Spock, who was looking as calm and collected as ever, despite a few displaced strands of hair and a healthy flush on his otherwise almost sickly pale complexion. He frowned at the scene, worry tugging at the edge of his mind. He wasn’t opposed to his squire having friends. In fact he encouraged it as deep and long-lasting friendships were considered a virtue among the nobility. The problem was the emotional investment James had a tendency to fall into. Among the locals he was rumored to be promiscuous to a fault, to the point where the clergy had contacted him worried that he was a poor influence on the “more easily swayed members of the community”. There was no shallowness to his affection, however. He longed for love and friendship so fiercely that he often deluded himself of the nature of his relationships and got his heart broken when it inevitably turned out that he was only the subject of the casual infatuation of a young lady, or the friendship of some power-hungry moron who used and then discarded him. He was pulled out of his ruminations by Sarek who addressed him quietly.

“Do you believe your Sir James to be suitable for the task?”

He was worried as well, it seemed.  

“He is strong as an ox and loyal to a fault. He may be young but I doubt you will find a more suitable candidate.” Sarek nodded wordlessly.

“Your grace. If I may ask. You are apprehensive about this, that much is clear. Why do you pursue this idea?”

“His mother…. requested it.” Christopher stifled a laugh. Though he had only met Lady Amanda at a few occasions, she had quite the reputation. In hindsight, it had been rather unusual of Sarek to request his opinion on the safety of his son, as he was determined to teach him by example without too much involvement. It was a small concern as of now but as the heir to one of the largest fiefs in the land, Spock was also subject to a lot of scrutiny from the court, partially due to his nature as something of an outsider. It was only logical, Sarek had said, that he should have a knight at his side, to ensure his personal safety. Christopher remembered with fondness the image of her ladyship and a young lord Spock, hiding himself in the folds of her dress at a gathering hosted by some minor lord. He could well picture her quietly pulling the strings behind the scene to make sure her son stayed safe.

“She is most wise, your grace.”

.

_The fire burned his skin, but he could no longer feel it. The screaming had died down, replaced with a sickening wailing from somewhere further along in the dark. He swung blindly in front of him, his own screams stuck in his throat. He wanted to throw up, wanted to run but there was nowhere to go. The smell of iron and brimstone and burning flesh overwhelmed him and he sank to his knees in the mud. This must be hell, he thought. What had he done to deserve this? He scraped at his surroundings, finding only more rocks and mud and he was in so much pain and-_

“James?

He woke up with a start, gasping for air. He was back in his room, staring up at a pair of dark and concerned eyes.

“James, are you well?” Spock was kneeling over him pressing his arm carefully with his hand. He was surprisingly strong, as James had found out earlier that day. He relaxed into the touch and took a deep, stuttering breath.

“Apologies, my lord. I suffer from night terrors. I should have let you know beforehand.”  

“There is nothing to apologize for, as I had not yet fallen asleep.” James took comfort in the rationality and levelheadedness of his new friend. Peter would always go into a small panic of his own as he was convinced that such dreams were the fault of some daemon that had possessed him and Pike would get that look on his face, like he pitied him.

“Would you.. like to talk about it?” Spock seemed unsure of himself. He was clearly out on unknown territory right now but the thought of him trying to help despite his uncertainty positively melted James’ heart. He gave him a small smile in response.

“It is a long story, one I do not feel like sharing right now, but I appreciate it. Truly.”

“Very well.” There was still some concern left on his face. Suddenly Spock seemed to realize he was still holding onto his arm and pulled back, eyeing him carefully. 

“You should rest, Spock. You have a long journey ahead of you.” He nodded in response and settled back into bed. James lay awake for a while longer, staring at the ceiling without really seeing anything. It wasn’t a memory, that much he knew. More of a reaction to a memory, or a poor retelling of it. He sighed. The fear lingered heavy over him like a cloud but the faint breathing from the other bed, accompanied by the nighttime sounds lulled him back to a light sleep after a while.

. 

The morning dew had barely settled when it was time for Sarek and Spock to take their leave. James had saddled their horses dutifully and was now standing next to the stables, with some young stable hands and Peter peeking out from behind him curiously. Spock bid Sir Christopher farewell at his father’s behest and made to retrieve his horse from James. The young servants made a hasty retreat at his approach, disappearing back into the stables and out of sight. Spock payed them no mind. James glanced at Sarek to make sure he was not looking, then he turned his attention to Spock and let a small, mischievous smile grace his lips.

“I hope the visit has been to your liking, Sir Spock.

“I found nothing of importance to be lacking, Sir James.” he responded, keeping his face neutral. James seemed to be weighing his next words carefully, well aware of the servants hiding in one of the boxes, ears perked for any juicy gossip. Then he spoke up, averting his gaze. “Your company has been... pleasant. It would please me greatly to exchange letters with you, if you are willing.”

“I believe such an arrangement would be agreeable.” His father was already seated on his horse, looking at him expectantly. Spock mounted his steed and gave the squire one last look, trying to memorize him as well as he could muster. James’ eyes were bright and warm in the morning light, hand still lingering hesitantly on the reins.

“I hope we shall meet again, anon.” He said in a hushed voice. “Go safe, Sir Spock."

“That is my wish as well. Farewell, Sir James.”

He turned his head and rode after his father, with a newfound heaviness and longing settling over his heart like a blanket. What a strange feeling it was.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Glossary for chapter 1 and 2:  
> Surcoat: a long, sometimes sleeveless garment, worn over your other clothes, sometimes belted at the waist. Worn by both men and women.  
> Wimple: a piece of fabric that comes over the chin and neck to cover to head, often combined with a veil.  
> Palfrey: a light riding horse, with a smooth gait and capable of traversing long distances  
> Coif and mail coif: a coif is a small cap, often worn under other types of hats and head coverings. A mail coif is the same thing but made out of mail.  
> A Nail: 1/16th of a yard. I added it more for flavor as I somehow doubt it was used very often IRL.  
> Hose: think a pair of socks that you pull right over your breeches. Some were about thigh-high, others went all the way to the hips.  
> Oh and about their social positions: Spock would officially probably be known as a viscount, since he isn't an earl yet. Jim is currently a "squire of the body" ie Pike's senior squire, charged with taking care of his equipment, guarding him in official settings and so on. I envision both Pike and Jim to be slightly lower ranking nobility, but not too far apart from Spock and Sarek just to make the dialogue easier to write. Social positions were a big deal during the middle ages, due to the lack of proper social security among other things and people guarded their family's honor jealously.


	3. In Flore

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> World building and exposition time!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I decided to let Bones keep his silly nickname just because calling a physician or a surgeon ""Bones"" is exactly the type of gallows humor that you see in the middle ages.  
> Update!!! I now have a separate blog dedicated to star trek and some other interests as well!! Follow me on https://inosfe.tumblr.com/

_To ~~the~~_ ~~ _esteemed_~~ ~~_m_ _ost excellent_~~ _rightful lord Spock, from your friend and loyal servant James Tiberius Kirk._

_~~I long f~~ _ _ Your parting has left me at a disadvantage, as I have yet to find anyone who matches me in skill at chess. Peter tries very hard but I am afraid he is not quite up to it yet. He keeps mistaking bishops for pawns, though I am not sure how. _

_ I am to accompany Sir Christopher at the tourney of Lady Rand on the Kalends of June. As her lands are near those of your father, _ ~~_ I hope _ ~~ _ I had thought you would perhaps be attending as well. I eagerly await your response. _

 

_ To Sir James Tiberius Kirk. _

_ Her ladyship has indeed extended an invitation to me and my family. Should your duties allow it, I would find a meeting an agreeable diversion. Vale. _

 

_. _

Colorful banners in all shapes and sizes, displaying a variety of coats of arms were swaying in the early summer breeze above them, only matched in vibrancy by the attending crowd it self. Nobility and gentry alike were swarming around tents, gossiping and covertly placing their bets on their favorite knights, away from the prying eyes of the disapproving members of the clergy.  A few young pages were engaged in some good-natured wrestling before promptly being dragged away by their ears by some elder members of their respective households. Two merchant families were discussing heatedly among themselves, trying to negotiate proper dowries for a decidedly uncomfortable looking young couple standing a bit apart from the rest of the group. 

“But Bones what do I say to him?”   
“So ‘my lord, you have not left my mind since we last met and I find myself incessantly obsessing over you despite knowing nothing about you´ is off the table?”

James flung a piece of overcooked carrot at his companion, who avoided it easily and gave him an unimpressed glare before going back to his own meal. Him and Leonard McCoy were seated inside Pike’s tent, eating what Peter passed for ‘a midday meal’, namely a pile of charred root vegetables. McCoy was sitting hunched over, hiding his face behind a large hood, likely to avoid scandal. He was both respected and feared in the medical field; respected for his skill as a physician and feared for his irreverence and unorthodox methodology.   
“He's nobility. Just kneel and prize him to the high heavens. He might even consider-”   
“ _ Leonard. _ ”   
“Master James sir?” Peter was peeking in through the tent opening. “His lordship is here.”   
James sprung to his feet and bounded out of the tent in record time, followed by a grumbling McCoy. The young man was currently being flocked by a small crowd of minor nobles. Spock was nodding politely at their babbling but there was a distant look in his eyes that suggested a minimal amount of effort on his part. Sarek and a woman James assumed was the renowned Lady Amanda were talking to Pike in hushed voices a small distance away from the crowd. Suddenly Spock looked up and locked eyes with James. Recognition and relief crossed his features and he said a few hurried words to his admirers before leaving them to instead join James where he was standing. 

“Sir Spock! It is good to see you again.” He gave the man his best smile and tried not to fidget. Spock was as elegant and put-together as last time, if not more so. This time he was clad in light blue silk from head to toe, lined with fur and accompanied by an ornate belt. His entire outfit must have been worth more Sir Christopher's entire manor.

“I share the sentiment, Sir James.” He responded with a light nod and then cast a questioning glance at McCoy who was scowling at him from underneath his hood.

“Oh! This is Bo- Leonard McCoy. Physician. Master Leonard, this Lord Spock.”

“I gathered as much.” McCoy grumbled. 

James gave him a murderous look before turning back to Spock who, bless him, did not seem to notice or care about McCoy’s rudeness.

“I am honored to meet you, Master McCoy. I believe I have heard of you before.” This seemed to catch the physician off guard. Before he had the chance to elaborate further a warm voice called out from just behind them.

“Spock, my dear! There you are.” Lady Amanda had left her husband and Sir Christopher and was now shuffling towards them with a bright smile on her lips. A frown graced Spock’s face for a second and there was a slight blush creeping up his neck. He was embarrassed, James realized incredulously.

“May I introduce Lady Amanda, my mother. Mother, this is-”

“You must be Sir James Kirk!” she said eagerly. “I’ve heard so much about you, you left quite the impression on my son.” Spock shifted a bit, suddenly very interested in the tips of his shoes.

“It is an honor to meet you, madame.” He already liked her.

“And you are…?”

“Leonard McCoy, Your Ladyship.”

“Oh! I do believe I have a transcript of one of your works in my library.  _ Sanitatis et medica _ . I have a few questions, if you are not otherwise occupied.”   
“Of course, madame.”

The conversation flowed on naturally from there and James was amused to see that even McCoy, who was normally very tight lipped around nobility, opened up to Lady Amanda, who in turn didn’t seem put off by his reputation to the slightest. They were soon joined by Pike and Sarek, who still made no comment on the subject of their previous discussions. James allowed himself to zone out for a while, nodding and laughing along when expected but otherwise just observing his companions.  McCoy said something that had the lady almost double over in laughter and Sarek brought a hand up to her back briefly before settling back into his place. James smiled at the scene, amused at the dissonance of tenderness against the stone cold expression on Sarek’s face. He suddenly felt someone carefully touch his arm and turned around to come face to face with Spock.   
“Sir James. Would you like to exchange some words with me? In a more private manner, perhaps.” he whispered as to not disturb the rest of the group, leaning in so close James could feel the breath on his ear. He swallowed hard.   
“Of course, my lord.”   
They bid their farewells to the group hastily, with a promise to return well before the first joust. None of them seemed to pay too much attention to their departure, aside from McCoy who eyed Spock suspiciously and Lady Amanda who gave them a small conspiratorial smile that he could not for the life of him decipher.

.

They ended up standing on a small hill overlooking the tourney grounds. Both had lingered in a comfortable silence for a while, with James occasionally commenting on the last-minute preparations to the spectator stands, and pointing out and naming some of the knights and their servants.   
“So.” James suddenly started with a teasing smile on his lips. “what did you tell your mother about me?” Spock considered him for a second before answering.   
“I told her that you are an exceptional man.” The smile transformed into a look of wonder. Spock wished for the briefest of moments that he could express himself so openly.   
“You did? What about the whole ordeal with scaring your horse or-”   
“I hold you in high esteem, James. I saw no reason to hide it.” James held his eyes for a moment that seemed to go on for an eternity. Just when Spock started wondering if he had said something wrong he finally answered.   
“You-” he sucked in a breath and laughed a bit nervously “I... hold you in high esteem as well.”   
They stood in silence once more. Spock quietly rejoiced at the sensation of being near James again. The heavy feeling of longing he had experienced at his departure had grown into a deeply set somberness over the last few weeks and months. He had even considered getting treated for an excess of black bile but that would’ve undoubtedly worried his mother to no end, which in turn would have caught the attention of his father.

Spock had never coveted friendship, never sought understanding. He was an outsider, both here and in his father’s land of origin so he never truly bothered. He floated through life, merely observing, instead of interacting. Meeting James had been like waking up from a lifelong dream. They were different on a fundamental level of being, yet time spent together with him felt so rewarding and invigorating that he doubted even his father would judge him for seeking it out. It was only logical, after all, to interact with someone who stimulated his mind in such a manner.    
From the corner of his eye he saw James shifting, rubbing his neck and revealing a scar that ran the length of his throat and disappeared underneath his clothing. Spock still knew so little. He wanted to know everything.

“Tell me something about yourself, Spock.” James said suddenly. Spock gave him a puzzled look.

“What would you like to know?” James shrugged before answering.

“How did you get the way you are?”

“The way I am?”

“Astute, eloquent, dignified. You know.” He was not entirely sure he did, but he decided to answer anyhow.

“I...attended the university of Paris at the age of 15. Perhaps the rigid education-”

James scoffed. “Bones was a student there as well and look how he turned out.”

“Bones-?”

“Oh. McCoy. I started calling him Bones in jest and then just kept doing it.” James explained sheepishly. Spock wanted further clarification, wanted to know how close they were to warrant the use of a moniker but instead he simply nodded in response.

“What is Paris like?”

“It is the largest city I have yet observed. I cannot tell you the precise amount of inhabitants but I would place my estimate at well over 200,000. In addition, it is both a large center for trade and commerce, as well as home to many of the large monastic orders.”

“But what is it  _ like _ ? The people, the sights, the sounds... Those kinds of things.” Spock paused for a second.

“I was quite...absorbed in my studies. I did not have a lot of time to venture outside the university grounds.”

James hummed, looking a bit disappointed. Spock wanted to rectify that immediately.

“However, I found the cathedral to be a superlative construction. It is by far one of the largest buildings in the city, or outside of it for that matter, with newly added stained glass windows in a multitude of colours. Its bells are so loud they could be heard well outside of the city walls.” He lowered his head thoughtfully, brushing the fur on the edges of his sleeves between his fingers. “I recall being quite...fond of the way light caught in the glass.” James looked at him in silence, a sudden gust of wind tussling his hair. Spock shivered. Below them Lady Rand was making her rounds, accompanied by a few ladies-in-waiting and an archer for security.

“We should probably head back.”

“Indeed.”

.

 

The joust came and went without much fuss and most of the participants were now taking the evening for themselves, relaxing before tomorrow’s main event, namely the melee.

McCoy was ill pleased with being pulled along to another tourney and he would have said as much, were it not for the hefty sum of money Pike had given him in return. It wasn’t even a proper tourney. The joust was mostly for show and the melee was to be reduced to a small scuffle over some trinket from the lady’s treasury. Oh well. With any luck, this would mean a reduced amount of injuries as well. McCoy scoffed to himself. What was he thinking? These fools could injure themselves in their sleep. God really seemed to have it out for him personally.

“Come now, Peter! You won’t even feel it tomorrow!”

“I don’t think he’s listening.”

He was currently dressing a shallow wound Peter had managed to get by falling face first off the spectator stands in his rush to get some food and a drink to Pike after the joust. He was squeezing his eyes shut and mumbling what sounded like a poor attempt at a Hail Mary. James had made him drink almost half his weight in some frankly disgusting beer and was now sitting at his side, keeping the shivering boy in place. Spock was standing at a small distance from them, eyes carefully following their moves.

“Master McCoy, perhaps you-”

“And what are you still doing here?” Spock frowned a bit but was otherwise unphased by his bluntness. James, on the other hand, gave him a withering look.

“I only meant to say that some honey may assist in the healing process, as you yourself mentioned in the  _ Sanitatis. _ ”

“And where do you suppose I’ll get some of that out here, huh?”

“If you allow me a moment I may be able to acquire some. I believe father brought a small batch along as a sweetener for his wine.” And with that he exited the tent, leaving McCoy and James to gape at each other in disbelief.

“See, he is not so bad.” James finally said with a soft smile. McCoy frowned and went back to inspecting the wound.

“One good deed does not a saint make.”

“Perhaps, but you really should be thankful that he has not raised any complaints about your behaviour. He may not care about your transgressions, but his father would not take it as lightly.” McCoy ignored his chiding and twisted Peter’s body to extract a grain of sand from his wound. James sighed.   
“Why do you dislike him so much?”   
McCoy’s gaze flickered briefly from Peter to James, taking in his sweet, almost innocent face. He measured his words carefully and then finally leaned in as to make sure no one could hear them beyond the thin fabric of the tent.    
“I don’t want this to end up like it did with Gary.”   
He took in the sight of James’ muscles tensing, and immediately loosening up when Peter made a sound of protest against the increasing pressure of James’ hands on his shoulder. He took in a deep, shuddering breath at what was likely an onslaught of deeply troubling memories. It was not pleasant but McCoy had to make him understand.   
“He could not have- he was not here when it happened. His family, as far as I know, had no part in it.”   
“Even so you’d be a fool to not entertain the possibility, James.” He answered sharply. “Things could change, they always do. One wrong move and it’s on again and you’ll be the one paying for it.”

“It is my job Bones. It’s about duty.” McCoy was about to say something, he wasn’t sure what, when Spock returned carrying a makeshift pouch of linen in his hands. He took in the faces of the two other men, obviously noticing the tension between them. He spoke carefully.   
“Unfortunately I was not able acquire a more permanent container.”   
“It’s sufficient enough. If you would be so kind as to hold it while I apply it to the wound… your lordship.”   
“Of course.”   
The procedure was completed in silence from there, with the occasional incoherent muttering from Peter. He finally opened his eyes to look up at the three men when James let go off his shoulders. He still looked a bit like a scared animal but at least he wasn’t convinced that he was going to die within the hour anymore.    
“Another poor soul saved from the fires. For the time being.” McCoy wiped his hands absentmindedly and looked down at the boy with light amusement. “Well kid. You keep doing those Hail Mary’s and try to avoid getting anything in that wound. You’ll be fine by tomorrow morn’.”   
“Yes. Thank you, master.” Then he frowned, eyes still slightly glazed over. “I was trying for Pater Noster, actually…”   
McCoy chuckled and turned to look at James and Spock.   
“James, please consider what I said. In the meantime, have a good evening, sirs.”

  
  


.

Spock and Jim made a tactical retreat to the back corner of the tent to play a game of chess when Pike finally came around to halfheartedly scold Peter for taking up McCoy’s time with such a small matter.

“Do not take offense, Sir James,” Spock started carefully after finishing his second move “but it does admittedly seem strange of a physician of Master McCoy’s caliber to take time to tend to something so… minute.”

“He is charitable of heart.” James responded defensively.

“I did not intend to sound disapproving. I was merely pleasantly surprised. He has displayed certain… unrefined characteristics today.” His companion gave him a pleasant, mirthful laugh at this.

“That is one way to put it.” A sigh “I do hope you excuse his crassness.” he continued, while considering the board. “As for Peter-He is very dear to me and thus, dear to McCoy as well.”

“I had noticed some familiar characteristics in your relationship with Peter.”

“That is no coincidence. He is my nephew.” James said calmly, almost too much so, not meeting Spock’s searching eyes.

Spock ruminated on the statement, considering the implications. Kirk was a line of minor nobles, mentioned only in passing in some of his father’s liege documents. Tiberius Kirk, who Spock had deduced was James’ grandfather, had apparently been quite influential but sometime after the records of a marriage between his eldest son and the daughter of a wealthy merchant almost all mentions of the name stopped. Perhaps the names had been struck out as a punishment for indecency? He frowned. It seemed unlikely. There was something lurking just at the edge of his mind but for now the answers he was seeking eluded him. He decided to leave the topic alone and instead focus on the game, which he was losing at a rapid pace.

The evening shifted to night and Spock had to take his leave from the squire once more. The realization that tomorrow was likely the last time they would be able to meet in a while was slowly dawning on him. James did not seem to want to let him go just yet either, although Spock dared not even dream of what this meant. He followed Spock outside the tent, hand resting just above his elbow, emanating heat through the thin silk of Spock’s clothing. They stopped at the entrance, breathing in the cool night air.

“Fascinating.” Spock said, almost to himself. James was standing just a bit closer than propriety allowed, though Spock could not find it in himself to care.

“What?”

“I find myself unwilling to part from your company.”

James seemed to consider something for a while. Then he grabbed Spock by his forearms and gave him a chaste kiss of peace on his right cheek. Though the gesture was entirely friendly and virtuous Spock could feel his face burn beneath his lips.

“We shall have to speak more of this tomorrow, as I find myself facing a similar quandary.” James said with a small uncertain smile on his lips. Spock nodded his assent wordlessly.

“Good night, your lordship.”

“To you as well, Sir James.”  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm soo sorry this is like a whole day late but the thing just dragged on and on and I want to write my cool medieval intrigue and romance asap.  
> Oh! And I'm also considering maybe doing like a cover illustration or something so look forward to that, maybe. I'm just suddenly very tickled by the fact that I'm making a ridiculously self-indulgent thing for this ship that's more than double my age lol. I feel like I'm part of history now.  
> Words for chapter 3:  
> In Flore: blossoming  
> Kalends: the first day of the month, used during Ancient Rome and throughout the middle ages.  
> Vale: goodbye (singular)  
> Sanitatis et medica: Latin for "health and medicine" or health and the medical sciences. At least I hope so, my Latin suuuucks.  
> Black bile: one of the four humors, prevalent in medieval medicine. Believed to cause a person to become melancholic.  
> Kiss of peace: pretty much a kiss on the cheek, prevalent in the middle ages, now mostly used in the catholic church. It's a friendly greeting, often performed between men of power as a sort of polite hello, so it wouldn't have been considered weird for them to do it out in public. Jim is sneaky like that.


	4. The die is cast

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is the part where I reveal that this is a political drama as well.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's some darker themes in this one. Nothing too bad but you know. It's the middle ages.  
> Come and say hi to me on my new tumblr blog @inosfe

 

Getting a moment to chat turned out to be a lot harder than either had foreseen the day before.

The melee begun few hours past daybreak. It was to be fought on foot, instead of horseback, as the rules previously stated. One of the knights’ horses fell ill during the night and despite rumours of unlawful play Lady Rand insisted that the tourney go on.

Pike was already standing in formation with the rest of his team. Some of them were complete strangers to James, others he knew from before. There was, of course, Finnegan who was knighted only a few summers back and who James had attempted to avoid during the few tourneys he had attended. He was a regular old bully but being of higher birth and station than James, there was not much he could do about it. He was now posturing around in his new heraldic surcoat, making eye contact with one of the young ladies in the audience who waved and beamed in response. He had a green ribbon tied to his belt, a token from the lady in question, perhaps.

James himself was crouched at one end of the field, along with Peter and McCoy. He tried to keep his eyes on the court but his gaze kept skipping back to the audience and the head of inky black hair, just about visible in the crowd. Spock was perched on one of the stands with a distant expression on his face. His mother was sitting a row up from him, gossiping with a few of her ladies-in-waiting. One of them, a vivacious looking girl with golden hair cascading down her back and large pale eyes, made eye contact with James and offered him a small shy smile. He replied with a cordial smile of his own but averted his gaze soon after. She was charming enough and by the look on McCoy’s face she’d at least caught someone’s attention, but James found no desire to pursue her today. He turned his attention back to Spock and was startled to find him looking right at James. His expression was unreadable and James felt the last bits of his smile fade. Suddenly, however, the battle was on and he had to redirect his full attention to his master.

 

The two teams rushed at each other, swords drawn, stumbling on the muddy ground. It had rained earlier and their surcoats were soon smeared with soil and dirt. Finnegan downed one of the younger knights of the opposite team with a clumsy, James cheerfully noted, bash to his sternum. He gave a triumphant roar but in his celebrating he was caught off guard by a smaller man to his left. They struggled for a while, pushing at each other’s shields, until Finnegan’s feet slipped, forcing both of them to the ground in a tangle of limbs. Pike was battling a larger knight in a red and white surcoat bearing the heraldry of a small fiefdom of the Rands. Pike was putting up a valiant defense, but the man kept striking hard, showing no signs of exhaustion. In an exceptionally dirty move he delivered a heavy blow to Pike’s shield, and while he was distracted the man used his own shield to launch another strike to his side. Pike let out a wheezing breath, loud enough to be heard at the other end of the field, and fell to the ground. The man lifted his blade again and struck his side again. James was on his feet in a second. The rules were clear: no striking a downed opponent. The man raised his sword once more but before he could strike he was swarmed by two other men from Pike’s team, who fought him off. Lady Rand had noticed the misdemeanor as well, and the fight was called off at once. The knight made his escape quickly and disappeared among the spectator stands. A few of the lady’s guards ran after him. The remaining knights eyed each other uncertainty, unsure what to do next, while the audience whispered amongst themselves. James rushed out onto the field where Pike lay, writhing in pain. James carefully lifted his sword bearing arm over his shoulder and helped him to his feet, leaving Peter with his shield and sword.

“James-” he gasped and brought a hand to his side. “I think somethin’s broken.”

“Master McCoy will know what to do. Please hold on.”

McCoy was already approaching them, with a young surgeon at his heels. Pike managed to frown at the younger man, despite being close to losing consciousness.

“No one’s cutting me today if I can help it.”

“Of course not, sir, but I may-”

“I will take it from here.” McCoy told the surgeon sternly. The man looked taken aback.

“Master Leonard, I do not wish to insult your talents, but do you not think this should be left in the hands of a surgeon?”

McCoy gave him a dark look before turning away from him and helping James lead Pike to his tent. The surgeon fell behind, looking after them hesitantly but elected to leave them to it.

 

After arriving at the tent James helped Pike out of his armor and clothes and had him lay down on his bedding. His graying hair was slick with sweat and he was deathly pale but still breathing. McCoy, on the other hand, was surveying his body.

“No bleeding. Something on the inside perhaps.” He pointed to a darkening patch of skin on the left side of Pike’s abdomen. “There.” He brought a hand to the space carefully, pressing down. Pike hissed in anguish before passing out entirely.

“A few broken ribs it seems.” He scratched his chin in consideration and gave James a small, measured glance. “There’s not much to be done, except clean him, wrap him up and hope they heal straight. You will have to make sure he does not overexert himself.” James nodded mutely in response.   
They went ahead with their plan in silent prayer, listening to the occasional yelling from outside, accompanied by rushed footsteps. Pike was unconscious during most of it, only waking up now and then to mutter incoherently. James offered him some leftover beer from the day before to numb the pain.

The sun was high in the sky, casting long trails of light through the cloudy overhang when they were finished. McCoy wiped some sweat from his forehead and sat back to inspect his work before covering Pike with a blanket. James reached out for Pike’s wax tablet, where he had taken to recording the costs of the journey. There were a few crossed out entries about some vegetables, a pair of new shoes and one batch of beer, all already paid for. Below them was a hastily scribbled note regarding Peter’s cut from yesterday and something about an embroidered pouch. He went to record the latest injury but stopped when he came to the costs section.

“How much will this cost us?” Before McCoy could answer there was shuffling outside the tent and soon Sarek strode in without a warning, followed by Spock. James stood up to greet them but was cut off by the earl.

“I will pay for your care, Master McCoy.” He said, depositing a coin pouch to the doctor before turning to James. ” We have more acute matters to attend to for now.” James made his best effort not to gape at the earl’s sudden generosity.

“Of course, your worship. What is it?”

Sarek glanced at McCoy, apparently deciding on whether he should stay. He seemed to judge the man trustworthy. He stepped closer and answered in a lower tone of voice.

“Evidence suggests that this deed was premeditated. The intent may have been to kill Sir Pike.” James stared at Sarek blankly.

“What?”

“The knight who Lady Rand selected to battle in her name was found dead in his tent, along with his senior squire and two pages. His armor was stolen.”

James stared at him in horror. Spock was studying him intently from behind his father.

“The imposter was… disposed of by one of the guards before he could be questioned. None have been able to recognize him.”

James had to sit back down. Silence descend on the group for a while until a raspy voice spoke up.

“A poor excuse for an assassin.” They turned to look at Pike, who was now awake. “Could’ve tried for me in my sleep instead.”

“We’re lucky he didn’t have enough of a brain to use poison.” McCoy mused.

Sarek clasped his hands behind his back thoughtfully. Spock took a small step further into the tent.

“Father, if I may. We would do well to establish whether he acted alone or on the orders of another party.” He said carefully. “The act may have been politically motivated.”

“I concede to your point. I will attain more guards and see to an increase in security. Meanwhile, my will is that you stay here until we leave.”

Spock seemed surprised by this.

“May I inquire as to what your reasoning is?”

“It would be more secure for you to remain in a company of trusted allies.” He leveled James with a sharp stare “I leave my heir in your hands, squire. See to it that he stays safe.”

He left without another word. James gave Spock a baffled look which Spock answered with an equally bewildered expression. McCoy shook his head and took his leave from them with a curt bow of his head. Pike was the only one who seemed unshaken by the exchange, closing his eyes and drifting back to sleep.

 

.

They ended up seated in a corner of the tent. James had armed himself with a sword and stationed Peter outside with a bow in hand. Spock was pondering the day’s events. He found it frustrating, the way more questions seemed to rise every time he found the answer to one.

“Do you have a theory as to why someone would try to kill Sir Christopher?” Spock said after a moment of consideration.

“Well, he does have enemies. Quite a lot of them actually, but most of them are supposed to be exiled.” Spock gave him a surprised look at this. James seemed unconcerned with the query but Spock noticed the crease that had formed between his brows.  

“He does not seem like the type of person to amass political opposition.”

“Do you remember when an attempt was made on the life of the king? Sir Christopher was one of the reasons they failed.”

“I had not heard that he was involved.”

James shrugged. “It was covered up quite well. It could have made the crown seem weak.”

“Then how did you come across this information? You cannot have been more than fourteen at the time.”

“Thirteen, actually. I got caught up in the middle of the whole ordeal by accident.” James shifted uncomfortably. “Don’t worry, I wasn’t in on the conspiracy or anything.”

“I did not wish to bring up an uncomfortable subject matter. I apologize.”

“You have a right to know if you are to trust me. It is just... complicated. I got involved with some bad people, you know how it is, and then there was the whole ordeal with being held in the city and-”

“The city?”

“When the royal castle was besieged. I was- Well. I had a friend who... deceived me. Sir Christopher saved my life.”

Realization dawned on Spock. James averted his gaze to the hands resting in his lap. He seemed to shrink into himself.

Most knew of the incident. It was a well-calculated move. The city supplied the castle with its needs, so instead of trying to occupy just the castle, the attempted usurpers had invaded the whole city. Entire city blocks were destroyed, either by fire, massacre or both. In the end only the stone houses of the wealthiest merchants prevailed, along with some sacred buildings and the castle itself. Spock had just turned fourteen and already departed for university when it had happened. He’d first heard about it in a hastily written message from his mother, and later from the mouths of merchants who’d managed to escape or had associates in the city. Finally, when he had returned, his father had given him a quick rundown of the recent political developments in person, with the sort of impersonal efficiency only he could manage. Even now people spoke of it only in hushed whispers.

Spock lifted a hand to James’ back slowly. He was not used to providing comfort but that did not mean that he should not try.

“I already trust you, James. I grieve for your past and I pray you will have a more prosperous future. That you mourn what has passed is a testament to your character.” he said sincerely. So many knights Spock had met before rejoiced in carnage. Even his classmates at the university had this tendency; how many times had the more heated debates not turned into physical altercations? How could they not when it was all they knew?

James opened his mouth and then closed it again, as if at a loss for words. Finally he glanced up at Spock. His voice was small, hardly more than a whisper when he spoke.

“There you go again.” Spock tilted his head in confusion.

“Pardon?”

“Saying such things. Do you believe the things you say? Or are you simply... saying?”

Spock was about to move his hand away from his shoulder but James caught it in the middle of the movement and held it with an iron grip. His eyes were determined and unwavering, even as his cheeks were turning red.

“I do not engage in pointless flattery.” Spock breathed, letting his hand relax in James’ grip, watching his own soft and underworked fingers disappear in the tan, calloused hand. “I would be your friend in all things, should you allow it” His words were heavy with meaning. James loosened his grasp, giving Spock the opportunity to let go. He did not.

“This is not how I expected today to turn out.” James said sheepishly.

“It has been… unusual.”    
They sat in silence for a moment, bathing in the soft light streaming through the tent canvas. Pike shifted in his sleep. A fly had made its way inside and was now trying to find a way out, buzzing around above them helplessly. James rubbed Spock’s knuckles with his thumb, making small circles over the joints. He seemed caught up in his own thoughts, not entirely conscious of the act. A bonfire was crackling away somewhere in the distance. Spock sighed and closed his eyes, leaning into the touch. Surely resting for a while could not hurt.    
.

Amanda had just completed her fourth letter when Sarek returned. The modest room Lady Rand had given them was alight with a few too many candles, casting him in a warm glow. She almost anticipated his admonishments for her 'wastefulness’, but was surprised when none came. Instead, he sank into a chair opposite of her with an exhale. The table was ill suited for writing, but she had made due. Nothing should impede the running a household, after all. Sarek looked drained, she noted, though he’d likely never admit to it, stubborn as he was.

“Where is Spock?”

“I left him with Sir Christopher’s squire. I thought it fit should he become a guard to his person.”

This surprised Amanda. “But I thought you did not approve of him. Or my plan for that matter.”

“Then let it be a test of his quality.”

“You left your  _ heir _ in his hands, Sarek. I’d say that’s a rather large vote of confidence.”

Sarek’s ever present frown grew deeper but his silence was telling.

“So you do approve of him.” She chuckled.

“Our son is an adult. If he trusts the man, then so may I.”

“Whatever you say, husband of mine.” She rolled up her last letter after making sure the ink was dry and deposited it amongst the rest of her belongings. Then she reached out to cup Sarek’s cheek with her hand, coaxing him to meet her eyes.

“How is Sir Christopher?”

“He will live.”

“Good, he has always been a favorite of mine.” She brushed his temple. “I acquired some lavender from one of the merchants today. It’s in the red pouch. Should help with the headaches.”

Sarek blinked at her.

“How did you know-”

“I know you. You have been overworking yourself again.” She smiled and stood back. “You should rest. I’ll fetch Spock when it is time for us to leave.”

.

  
Some people were already packing up when Amanda arrived at the campsite. Traveling merchants were preparing their wares, no doubt to be sold at the markets in the nearby town and a few knights had taken to playing chess in the shade of a willow tree, now that they were finished with the tourney and allowed to talk to each other directly again. Amanda also noticed the wrapped up bodies, stowed away on a cart heading out to the village for a proper funeral. She crossed herself in mournful reverence to them. The page she had taken along with her on the short journey from Lady Rands castle to the tourney grounds helped her off of her horse and took the reins, while she headed for Sir Christopher's tent. The boy she had briefly met the day before bowed his knee at her approach. She gave him a smile and beckoned him to stand back up. He was on his feet in a matter of seconds.

“Good day, sirrah. Is my son still in your master’s company?”

“Yes, my lady. I can fetch him if you would like me to.” Amanda stifled a laugh. 

“No thank you, I’ll get him myself.”    
She slipped inside the tent, but stopped almost immediately. Spock was fast asleep, leaning up against James whose back was so ramrod straight Amanda feared he would break in two at the slightest touch. He looked as if he was afraid to breath. She smiled at the sight and stepped further inside. James whipped his head around at the sound, eyes widening at her approach.

“My lady! I… uh-” he stammered. Spock huffed and opened his eyes, slowly.

“Hello, Sir James. Hello, my dear. It is time for us to leave now, unless you have any objections.”  
Spock was wide awake now, and red as a ripe apple. She smiled at him fondly. As much as he enjoyed playing the ‘stern future head of the house’, he was still a boy of barely nineteen summers in age and no one knew this better than her. 

“Mother. I was simply… resting. We may leave.” He glanced over at James. Amanda disliked separating her son from his friend, knowing how lonely he was, but there was not much she could do.

“I will wait for you outside” she said softly. "Bless you and yours, Sir James. May we meet again."

"It has been my honor, your ladyship." 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was so hard to get done and I'm still not entirely happy with it but it's done now and I have other ideas to tackle.  
> A wax tablet is a sort of pad that was used throughout the antiquity and the middle ages for writing. They're basically small wooden boxes filled with wax, usually dyed black or red, that you'd write on using a stylus. I have my own one actually, though there's not much practical use for it.  
> Oh and yeah kids usually started attending university around the age of 14, depending on the place of study. This was the case in at least the university of Paris and Cambridge if memory serves. Other places educated people in their thirties. I know I never specified where this is set but I'd place it somewhere in northern central Europe because frankly it's just easier to slip a new country in there when there were already so many disparate states around there (medieval maps are a MESS).


	5. Intermission

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, dear reader please listen to Bryd one breere when you read this (here's a good version https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Kr2LRpx4Uyk&t=9s )  
> It's the song I imagine being played during the bath scene, and incidentally the song this entire fic is named after. It's one of the odlest English love songs and while it's generally thought to have been written around the year 1300, I think it fits in as we're already approaching the 1300's here.

The roses in the garden were in full bloom now. Spock was once more hidden away in the narrow clearing, curled up in the shade of an apple tree. He had his mother’s book, or perhaps it was his now, in his lap but he’d closed it long ago and was now gazing up at the blue sky above. There were only so many books one could read and so much one could study before life in the cramped castle became tiresome. His parents had only grown more protective of him after the incident during the tourney, and now he was barely allowed to leave the grounds without a small party of guards. It was logical, of course, but he had grown accustomed to wandering the streets alone and uninterrupted when he had attended the university. A few birds flew above him, heading for a nest they had made on the wooden balcony above. He’d not heard anything from James in a few weeks and he was growing restless. Had he offended the man? Maybe he had been too insistent with his questioning. If Spock were any other man, he would have cursed his social ineptitude. 

A stiff breeze ruffled the branches above him, bringing down a few petals of the apple blossoms. He frowned and tried to shake them off. A small huff of laughter alerted him to the presence of his mother who was standing among the lavender bushes. 

“May I join you, child?” 

“If you wish.”    
She seated herself on the ground next to him and picked up the book. Then she gave him a roll of parchment.  

“A letter for you.” 

He grabbed the parchment a bit too eagerly. The ink had stained the outside of the scroll, as if the writer had forgotten to let it dry fully before wrapping it. He rolled it out in his lap. 

_ From J. to Lord S. _

_ I pray you forgive me for the delay in my response. I hope you are well. As Sir Christopher’s senior squire I have been left in charge of the upkeep of the house so that he may heal, along with the cook. I do not suppose there are any free maidens in your household at this time? The man desperately needs a wife to take the reins here, the staff almost burned the stables down during our absence. _

Spock’s mouth quirked. His mother gave him a surprised glance. 

_ Luckily Sir Christopher has almost made a full recovery. I miss your company dearly at times like these. You always seem to be in so much control, I do not see you having trouble keeping your servants from destroying the food supply with rotten turnips. I regret that we could not speak more the last time we met. There are still many things I wish to ask of you. What was your favourite subject during your time at the university? If you could do anything with your life, what would it be? Do you have any fears? I could ask much more but I fear I may overstep my boundaries, so I shall leave it at that. _

_ May you and yours be blessed, in nomine domini, etc. _

Spock frowned ever so slightly at the reservedness of his friend. The man seemed to think himself unworthy of his answers. This, he found, needed to be rectified. He left without so much as a goodbye to his mother who was left sitting with the book on her knee, looking after him in confusion.  __

 

.

Steam rose from the heavily scented bath, curling its way up James’ body and leaving him dizzy in its wake. Now that Sir Christopher had made a full recovery he’d insisted on visiting a bathhouse, which also meant that James would come along. It was more a perk of the job than anything, he mused, as an attendant rubbed a myrrh-scented oil down his calves.

James leaned back and let out a small sigh of contentment. The attendant behind him, a busty woman with auburn hair called Mathilda, chuckled and scrubbed her washcloth over his chest with just a bit too much force.

“Aw look at the lad! He’s all softened up for us, the sweetheart.”

“I’d rather have him a bit stiff.” another attendant joked on his left.

The women burst out in a heap of laughter that echoed and bounced off of the stone chamber walls. James joined in with a small smile of his own. The women working as bathhouse attendants often maintained certain side businesses and would find any opportunity to ply their trade, if only for a few coins more. James sympathized. He’d not exactly grown up rich himself; he was noble by name, not by the weight of his coin pouch. He had, however, decided to abstain himself from the sins of the flesh today. He was almost certain that his soul was doomed anyhow, what with the night terrors and his desire for flesh of all kinds, as Bones would say, but he could keep it in check for the moment at least. 

Another woman entered the space, bringing more oil. She was taller than the others, all long and slim beneath the flimsy linen of her dress. She sauntered up to the bathtub, bearing herself like some kind of heathen goddess in the light streaming through the high arching openings that faced the courtyard beyond. Her hair was long and dark and her eyes were not unlike the night as she leaned over to pour the oil in the water, keeping her eyes on him throughout the action. James sank further into the tub, self conscious under her scrutiny. 

“There you are Elaine!”  

“Apologies for the delay, mistress.” she responded, still maintaining eye contact with him. James shuddered as her long fingers traced his inner thigh. Mathilda swatted some water at her playfully. 

“Oh, don’t scare the poor boy, we just got him relaxed.” 

“I see.” she gave him a small, sultry smile.

James soon found himself manhandled so that his forehead was resting against the edge of the tub, with his back and buttocks exposed to the humid summer air. Deft hands worked his tight muscles and scrubbed him so clean it felt like he’d never smell again. There was the occasional murmuring and giggling amongst the women but James had long since tuned them out in favour of the sweet music that emanated from somewhere in the vicinity. A pair of hands swept through his hair, massaging his scalp carefully. He looked up and came face to face with Elaine who looked down at him from beneath her lashes. Maybe he could indulge himself just a bit- 

“Pray forgive me but I am looking for Sir James Tiberius Kirk.” A man stood at the entrance. James straightened up with a sigh. 

“That would be me.” 

“Excellent, sir. I was asked to deliver a letter to you ‘at my earliest convenience’. I hope I am not interrupting something… important.” His eyes lingered on Mathilda who waved at him in delight. 

“Not at present, goodman. Let me see it.” 

The letter was rolled up and bound with a simple brown cord. The paper, for it was indeed paper, was thin and well made. He dried his hands on a cloth that a blushing redhead held up to him before taking the message and untying the string. The man left, though not without a hearty invitation from the mistress of the attendants to ‘join her later’ but James could not hear them anymore. He recognized the handwriting.      
“Bad news?” Mathilda asked, running her hands up his back.   
“No! No, not at all. Just a letter from a friend.”   
“Oh, a ‘friend’? Is that what they call it these days?” Another bout of laughter. James sputtered.   
“Goodness no! I-”   
“Aw he’s got some lovely lady waitin’ back at home” one of them said.   
“I do not-”

Mathilda laughed. “Come on, kid. Love is our business. I know that look in your eye.”

“It's not a love letter!” James said, exasperated. “How about I read it out loud for you? Will that settle you down?”    
The women exchanged a few joyous glances and settled up around him expectantly. James sighed. It had been a joke but evidently they had either missed it entirely or willfully ignored it.

_ “To Sir J, from your friend S. _

_ I am pleased to have received your message and I am joyed to hear of Sir Christopher’s recovery. _

_ You may ask anything you like of me, as I have asked much of you. I hope I have conveyed this clearly to you as well. You are my friend and an equal in my eyes. _

_ Having favorites is illogical and counterproductive, but I’ll admit to being partial to astronomy throughout my studies. Had I free reign of my life I would wish to carry on studying the night sky. I could teach you sometime, should you wish. As for my fears I am saddened by the prospect of you leaving to fight some far off war and never returning to my side. Sir Christopher’s injury made this an all the more prevalent worry on my part.” _

The women were now staring up at him, eyes wide with wonder.

_ “This, too, is illogical but I find that my logic fails me where you are concerned. The loneliness of the castle must be affecting me more than I had previously considered. I have servants and retainers to keep me company, yet your mind is the only one that puts me at ease. I pray we meet again. Be well, Sir James, for my sake and yours.”  _

The words felt heavy in his throat when he was finished.

“See?” he croaked out “It’s a letter from a friend.”

The women were still staring at him, none wise enough to give a response. Finally Mathilda spoke. Her voice sounded strained.

“Kid. I don’t know what you nobles think friend means but that’s one you shouldn’t let go.”

James did not have time to respond before he was ushered out of the bath to be dried off.

He stood in silence, surrendering to their motions. The women soon resumed their joking but James was miles away by that point. He was one again rendered speechless by Spock’s sincerity, and what had he managed? God, but he must have sounded like a complete moron in his letter. He was in a strange emotional place, somewhere in between misery and joy, floating along with the music. He had been served a rather heavy wine earlier, and it was doing a number on him at present.

Finally the women left, leaving him to get dressed. Only Elaine remained, watching from the shadows. James turned away from the heat of her dark eyes. He was in no mood for play anymore. She handed him the last pieces of his clothing that lay scattered where he’d left them in his haste but kept her distance, perhaps sensing his inner turmoil. He left her with a small tip, an apology for his dismissal of her services, turned on his heel and fled the premises, Spock’s message still securely in his hands.  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was a bit shorter so I just wanted to thank everyone who's been reading this so far. Me mental health started deteriorating some time last year and I hit a new low at the beginning of 2019, which is also why I started writing. I'm in a similar slump now, though I'm confident that it will get better with time. It helps to have some kind of outlet when you're in a bad space. I hope that my own disjointedness doesn't show too much in my writing and I hope that it brings you some joy as well. So thank you to everyone who's reading this now and those who read this in the future as well. I have many more chapters to come so stay tuned.


	6. Our Lady of Sorrows

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm back babyyy!! Time for church stuff.

  
Two years later, Anno Domini 1300

 

The creaking and the groaning of the oars echoed across the narrow waterway as Pavel guided his rowboat out from the pier. He inspected his companions. Both clearly rich, noble even, with uncommon facial features. Not as open as most west of the river Volga, but not similar to those he’d encountered east of Novgorod either. One young and healthy, if a bit pale; the other older and quite sickly. He was huddled over against the younger man’s side, a hand laying heavy over his chest. 

“He is ill?” Pavel tried. The words of this foreign land were still new to him but a good merchant could make himself understood no matter what. Even if he was mostly peddling fish and carrying cargo for larger ships. Semantics, as far as Pavel was concerned. The young man met his eyes before looking back over the water. 

“Yes. Do hurry.” Tight-lipped, then.

He rowed on in silence. 

 

They were swiftly approaching the docks of a small harbor town. Smoke and dust mingled with the morning fog and the sounds of workers and animals echoed across the water. Wooden homes and a few stone houses lined the streets, many of which lacked cobblestone covering and were instead overlaid with planks or left bare to the elements. A larger church was visible just beyond the town center, accompanied by a hill upon which the gallows were located. A lone body was suspended by the rope; a reminder to visitors such as themselves to mind the law.

Pavel guided the boat up on the shoreline and hopped out to guide it further up still, but the young man was already standing, holding the older one firmly by the arm. 

“Spock, I am able to walk unassisted.”

“It would not be wise to do so in your current condition.”

The young man’s assessment turned out to be correct as they stumbled out of the boat onto dry land. Pavel instinctively went to support them in their effort. 

Together they wandered down one of the tight alleys avoiding the gaze of curious town’s folk. They stopped in front of one of the stone houses, slightly smaller than the rest. Spock, as Pavel now knew he was called, reached out and gave the door a few harsh knocks. A breath later the door was opened by a middle-aged woman with piercing blue eyes. She took one look at the three of them before ushering them in without question.

“Master McCoy!” she bellowed up the stairs. “You’ve got another patient!”

A miffed looking man still dressed in his sleep wear appeared at the top of the stairs

“God’s nails woman, you could have just- “he stopped when he noticed Pavel’s companions.

“You had better come with me, your grace.” Together he and the older man disappeared down the hallway. Spock fixed them with a nondescript look but made no move to follow. Pavel shifted uncomfortably at the entrance, unsure if he had overstayed his welcome. Just as he was about to leave Spock deposited a large amount of coin in his hands. 

“I am in no more need of your assistance, as of now.” 

Pavel looked up at him with round eyes, feeling the weight of the metal in his hands. He could almost taste the good wine that the merchants from Danzig were selling at some frankly outrageous prices.

“Yes, Sir! If my lord ever needs me, he can look for Pavel.”

With that he left the house, bounding down to the marketplace to spend his well-earned money, his strange travel companions already forgotten. 

 

Spock was left standing in the small room with the blue-eyed woman. She fussed about in the area before turning to him.

“Some broth, sir? I think we can spare a bit.” 

“That will not be necessary, Mistress…”

“Just Christine to you, my lord. Best midwife this town has to offer and housekeeper for Master McCoy. Occasionally. He does not like it when I meddle in his affairs.” she leaned in conspiratorially. “But he would not survive a day without me. Do not tell him I said that.”

Spock nodded absently. He crammed himself awkwardly into the corner of the room as Christine rushed back and forth, busy with some kind of craft of her own.

“The Doctor is not married, then?” 

Christine blew a few stray bangs from her face as she glanced up at him from next to the hearth. 

“I suppose he was once. Dead now perhaps. I have tried to get him remarried, at least for the sake of the household. He has shown no interest so far.” She peaked inside the kettle, seemed displeased with the results and put the lid back on. “And before you jump to conclusions, I am indeed married. At least legally so. My husband set sail towards Rome, promised he’d come back with gold. I’ve not heard from him since. Master McCoy and I found ourselves in similar situations so we combined our resources. People do gossip of course but we care not about them.” She gave him a devious smile." They’re too afraid of Leonard to anger him and the women folk might riot if they lift a finger towards me. All in all, the Lord has been good." She crossed herself and went back to work. 

Spock nodded again, unsure of how to answer the woman. He had an admittedly limited familiarity with women, beyond his mother and his elder sister, whom he barely remembered. Neither of them were like her, he was certain. 

Sensing his awkwardness, Christine looked up at him once more. 

“You need not linger here. I shall send for you if something changes.” 

Spock had no particular care for where he spent his time but he left the house in favor of his other duties. The street Master McCoy’s home was located on turned out to be inhabited by wealthier handicrafters and a few merchants. Their serving staff rushed back and forth between plots of land where cabbages and carrots were rising from the earth. It crossed the town’s marketplace, from where he could already hear the shouting of merchants peddling their wares. A group of holy men were engaged in a heated debate but they all grew silent at his approach. He paid them no mind.

  
  


The smell of smoke, stale urine and baked bread guided him away from the crowd and into the shade of the rather impressive town church. After a moment of consideration he stepped inside. He kneeled and crossed himself in reverence to the main altar and allowed himself a few moments to observe his surroundings. Narrow windows reached towards the heavens, their painted glass surfaces tinting the sun in a multitude of colors. Spock walked past a few praying townsfolk, heading for the lingering members of the clergy. A balding priest approached him. 

“Sir Spock. I had heard you were in town.”

Spock pinned him with a sharp look. 

“Indeed, Father William?”

He seemed caught of guard by the clipness of his tone. 

“Yes- I could not help but to overhear the gossiping of the women folk. You know how they chatter.” He cleared his throat. “Is there something I may help you with?”

“There is but I would appreciate discretion. Perhaps-”

“I promise the utmost privacy in your matter, your lordship.” father William said hastily. “Please follow me.”

Spock allowed himself to be lead into what appeared to be a former sacristy, now remodeled into a study. 

“We have been trying expand the church. Our town has grown in recent years and we hope to become a major stop for pilgrims once the Lady chapel is finished. We are almost done.” William explained. 

“I am aware. My father took part in funding your expansion. Almost five years ago, if I am not mistaken.”

William blanched at Spock’s tone but kept his expression as amiable as possible, to his credit. 

“Yes, we had some issues with the builders. All resolved now, I am happy to report.” He cleared his throat. “Now, Sir. How may I help you?”

Spock rested his eyes on a small figurine of The Lady, suspended on the wall behind the priest, with her head clad in a heavenly crown and her face carved into an ever-present expression of serenity.

 

“My father fell ill during our inspections of the southern fort. We were able to get him here to be treated by a trusted doctor, but he is old and the road has taken a toll on him.” 

“Surely you do not mean Master McCoy? You know that there are certain rumors-“

“Of him living in sin with Mistress Christine? Or his continuing practice as a surgeon despite his status as a doctor?” He leveled a cool gaze on William who seemed to cower at its sharpness. “I assure you, Father, that he is in good hands. I have witnessed the doctor’s skill myself.” Spock straightened up further to punctuate his sentence. “Now, as I was saying. My father’s health is deteriorating and my lady mother, who is concerned for him, has requested that I make sure he is kept well in your prayers should he fall ill, which he now has.” He reached into his robes to reveal a large coin pouch, which he set down on the table with a small thud. “This should be enough for a few weeks worth of prayers, and a visit to his bedside should you have the time. Consider it a donation towards the new furnishings that you will need once you have expanded this building.” Father William eyed the coin pouch with disbelief, opening it to assess its contents before finally meeting his gaze with renewed vigor. 

“Of course, Sir. I shall visit him right away.” He grabbed a small Bible and headed for the door in a hurry. “Feel free to visit the Lady Chapel to see the fruits of our labour so far. I am sure you will be pleased.” With that he rushed off. 

Spock decided, in a moment of uncharacteristic impulsiveness, to follow Father William’s advice and headed for the Lady chapel. 

The main structure of the chapel had already been finished and now it seemed to simply be lacking a proper door. A few wall paintings had already been completed, but their positions suggested that future additions were to be made. They had placed a large statue of the Virgin at the end of the room, looming over the so far sparse decoration. Spock made to approach it but stopped when he spotted a figure in the Lady’s shadow. At the sound of his footfall the figure turned to address him.

“I hope I am allowed- Oh!” 

They stood for a moment in stunned silence. Spock drank in the sight of the familiar golden hair, shifting into copper at the roots, the warm eyes, the boyish face and the strong and stout body. James looked much as he remembered, only more mature. There was a tiredness in his eyes that sat ill with Spock and when he moved closer Spock noticed that he was favoring his right leg. Nevertheless, his smile was like the spring sun, melting away at the cold that had set over Spock’s heart. He could feel the involuntary tug at the corner of his own lips. 

“Spock.” Few sounds were as sweet as this, Spock decided.

“James. It has been a while, has it not?”

“Ever the master of understatements. I feared that I would die before seeing you again.” 

Spock gave him a quick once-over before replying. 

“Indeed. What has happened?”

James tried his left leg a bit before shifting to the right again.

“Fell off my horse on the battlefield. Nothing dangerous, I am almost fully healed.” He smiled up at Spock, but the weariness was there again. “I have also been knighted.”

“Am I correct in my assessment that you are not pleased with this?”

 James looked down at his feet.

“I have never backed down from a challenge, never feared my mortality and yet- I fear what I may have to leave behind should I fail.” His eyes were bright. “What a knight I am.”

Spock was at a loss for words, searching around for  anything to calm his distressed companion. As a man of honesty it was hard to come up with calming pleasantries. His struggle was interrupted as he found himself in the strong embrace of a recently knighted young man, fresh out of training. He hurried to return the gesture, wrapping himself around his friend like a blanket. 

“I have missed you terribly.”

“As I have missed you, James. Each day I dread the worst.”

They stayed that way for quite a while, under the watchful eyes of the  _ Mater Dolorosa.  _ It should perhaps have been shameful, to so fully enjoy an embrace on holy ground but ,Spock mused, surely such loveliness could be nothing else but divine in nature.  __

“Spock.” James was looking up at him again “I feel-”

“Lord Spock?” an urgent voice called out in the nave. The pair looked up at each other a split second before untangling from one another.

“Lord Spock! Oh there you are!” a younger member of the clergy looked up at him from the entrance to the chapel, his face pale. “You are needed at your father’s side.”

.

Earl Sarek’s face, once so commanding and stoic, was now stagnant and drab, but for once at peace. Master McCoy looked bleaker than ever and a light sheen of sweat had set upon his features. Father William had his head bent in prayer, next to Christine who was picking at her rosary. James, who had followed closely behind Spock, was now gripping his arm tightly.

“You did not tell me it was this bad.” He murmured, breath puffing over Spock’s ear. “May his soul rest easy.”

“He had some issues for quite some time, though he never revealed their true extent.” Spock responded numbly.

McCoy struggled for a moment. “I did all I could but he just suddenly-” Spock shook his head.

“Breathe easy doctor, you have done your duty. _Contra vim mortis non crescit salvia in hortis_. It was inevitable.” 

 It would have been dishonest of him to claim grief at the moment as their relationship had always been strained. The realisation of what this meant, however, was setting in. Father William raised his head to give Spock a careful look.

“I believe, that unless it has been otherwise decided, we should now greet our new earl.”

All heads turned to look at Spock, uncertain of how to proceed. James loosened his grip on Spock’s arm and kneeled at his feet as gracefully as he could with his hurt leg. Spock looked down at him in mute astonishment as he lay a kiss on his ring and bowed his head dutifully. 

“My liege.” 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whew! Sorry gang, this took forever to write. I got a summer job at a cemetery which took like half of my energy but I also got to sit around in a medieval church which was fun, from time to time. Anyway, big announcement! I got in and I'm starting my university studies in history this fall! Scary and cool.  
> I'm gonna go more into Chekovs' backstory in future chapters but the short story is that he's from Novgorod (the capital of the Novgorod republic which was quite neatly located in today's Russia, sliding right up against Sweden's border in what is today eastern Finland and stretched out to the Ural Mountains) and just decided to bounce one day. I suspect his life would not have been easy due to the general distrust between the eastern and the western churches, but I think someone with a good sense of business could've survived in a city environment. Pavel is the eastern version of the name Paul so I left that in there too.  
> Contra vim mortis non crescit salvia in hortis: No sage grows in the gardens against the power of death  
> Not many new words in this chapter but here are a couple of church words (I'm not catholic so I hope I got it right but also all I know is medieval church stuff so uhh sometimes it's just that)  
> Lady chapel: has a couple of different names but it's basically a chapel dedicated to the Virgin Mary, because she was super popular during the middle ages. You'll sometimes find these in cathedrals and larger churches, smaller ones may just have had a smaller side altar dedicated to her.  
> The Lady, the Virgin, Mater Dolorosa (Lady of sorrows) etc etc are of course different names for Mary. A fun little hobby you can take up is digging through medieval writing to see how many different names you can find. Lady of ladies, Rose of roses, flower of flowers, Our Lady, Heavenly Queen... Bonus points for finding the differences between the eastern and western church.


	7. Sincerest servitude

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which the boys get physical, part two the electric boogaloo.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one feels a bit short but I kinda wanted to cut it off there to really get into the uh....religious horniness in the next chapter. Watch me, someone who's grown up in a Lutheran country, trying to understand the medieval catholic world view.  
> Follow me over on https://inosfe.tumblr.com/ to see how well I'm doing with that  
> I do want to mention that the religious justification is not so much about them being men (im a soft ass lesbo how'd ya think I'd write that) and more so based around the fact that anything physical was wicked and bad. Jim and Spock do have the added benefit of being rich and noble which is a moral free pass to really just go down on your homie in the name politics and such in ye olden times, before puritanism was pop anyway.

“-the lords Bryce, Adam and Aloys Falk have all confirmed the validity of Earl Sarek’s passing and Earl Spock’s claim to his lands and wealth, in deference to His Majesty’s wise counsel and ruling. The wise and honorable Bishop Thomas has likewise extended his blessings and has cleared space in the Cathedral of Saint Ralph for the burial. Lord Alexander Germain’s challenging of Earl Spock’s rights to his heritage has been withdrawn, as the lord does not wish conflict between himself, Sir Christopher and Sir James.” the scribe, a young and uptight man called Farrell, recited while unfurling another piece of fine paper, with numerous wax seals dangling off of it.

 “Lady Amanda’s declining of a new marriage contract has been received, though should she wish so in the future-and I quote- Baron Anthony remains at her service and would gladly unite with the lady in matrimony should she come to regret her decision. “

“Rat.” muttered Sir Christopher from his seat. Lady Amanda folded her hands in front of her. “He is very kind in offering this. My decision is, however, final. Please inform the Baron of this and let him know that there are several maidens of good character and skill in my circle.”

The scribe wrote as he was told to. “Then that is taken care of. Unless anyone has any further comment on the matters previously discussed.” He raised his head and observed the group. 

Sir Christopher, was standing on the far end of the room with a stern look on his face, arms crossed. Next to him was a properly intimidated Master George, the households resident lawyer. Lady Amanda was seated right in front of Farrell, head held high. The loyalty she felt toward her late husband was admirable, though unexpected. The young Earl stood like a statue next to the desk shoulder to shoulder with Sir James, who was eyeing them all with a tight look, as if challenging them to voice their disapproval. 

“You should know,” began the lawyer “that it is unusual for the title of an earl to be inherited. I doubt that this is the last we shall hear in way of protest, even with His Majesty’s ruling.” 

“The old Earl suspected that this might be the case.” said Sir Christopher, approaching the table. “He requested that I evaluate a proper candidate to guard Your Grace” he bowed towards Spock. “I put Sir James forward as a suggestion.” James gave him a baffled look but before he could comment Spock spoke up.

“I would be honored to invite Sir James into my home.” he said in a level tone, dark eyes never abandoning the desk surface. “I would not bind you to my servitude but-”

“Of course I’ll do it!” James cleared his throat. “I mean- I am at your disposal, Your Grace.” Spock met his eyes, an unspoken question on his lips.

James opened and shut his mouth before turning back to the room with a resolute nod. Master George looked around with an uncertain expression. 

“Well, that’s settled then. We shall have to meet further along in private to discuss an appropriate payment for services rendered.” as an afterthought he turned to Spock. “Oh, and if you’ll have my counsel, Your Grace. Taking a wife might calm some of the outrage.” Spock bowed his head, face serene.  

 “I shall take that into account. You may leave now.” 

. 

In the end, Earl Sarek was indeed buried beneath the stone floors of the cathedral, in the middle of the nave. Prayers were said, indulgences bought and a few marriage contracts were signed; such was the life of the wealthy and powerful.  

Amanda gave the small mirror one last mournful look, pinned her veil, wiped at her face and turned towards Helen, a young and bright handmaiden who had been in her household a few years now. 

“Are you well, Mistress?” Her face was filled with concern and not a small amount of confusion. 

“As well as I’ll ever be, dear.” She wouldn’t understand but Amanda would try anyway. “Take my advice; do not marry a man whom you cannot bear to lose.” 

“Very well, Mistress, I shall keep that in mind.”  

They left her chambers silently. The storm was tearing against the walls, blowing cool air into the hallways and flickering the candles. 

“Are the servants quarters heated?” 

“Yes, mistress.” 

“And Sir James has settled in?” 

“I believe so. His Grace is currently with him, I believe.” 

She sighed and stopped at one of the windows, facing into the courtyard. Oh how her garden would suffer in the storm, she mused. There was no battling the fall season. All living things were mortal, in the end. Helen shuffled next to her. Her mostly decorative cape wasn’t doing much against the ever present chill of a stone house. 

“If I may ask, my lady. What sort of man was the late Earl? You seem to hold him in high esteem.”  

“The highest, my dear. He was the best of them. Never forced his right as husband, trusted me as he trusted any loyal servant. He could be cold and distant, but just for show.” She looked up into the heavy clouds. “People like him are far and few in between, Helen. I’ll be damned if I let any lesser man rule this house.” 

“I see.” There was a thoughtful silence between them. The young maiden turned her brown eyes up towards Amanda. 

“I received a letter yesterday, from my good mother. His Grace Baron Anthony has asked to marry me.” 

“Indeed?” 

“Yes. My father has already negotiated the dowry.” 

Amanda gave her a small smile. 

“I would not advise you to disobey your parents, but should you long for another way… Well? I could assist you.” 

She gave her garden one last glance. “Life is too short to be spent with undeserving men.” 

Amanda left Helen looking scandalized and headed for the hall downstairs. There was still much work to do.  

.    

“I hope this is adequate.” Spock said seriously at the entrance to James’ new room. A few servants scurried out of their way as they stepped inside. He closed the door and turned back towards his newest subject, who was exploring the room with an incredulous look on his face. It was small, relative to the size of the manor, but it kept the heat in well. There was a small fireplace in the corner, keeping the room warm. A large chest, holding his armor and weapons, had been left next to the door. The bed was undoubtedly the most valuable item in the room. A large, plush thing with an overhang; the type of bed nobles held meetings in. A table and a few chairs were laid out next to it. 

“Adequate?” James said in a laugh, flinging himself onto his new bed. “Spock, you have seen what my previous housing was like.” He sighed contentedly and sunk back into the pillows, looking up at the looming glass windows, the embroidered bedding and Spock’s dark eyes as he leaned over to look at James.  

“Indeed, though I fear you may have expected more.” His eyes flickered down for a moment. “I find that your good opinion of me is of great importance.” 

James readjusted himself so he was leaning back onto his elbows to get a better look at Spock. 

“I could find no fault in your character if you were to offer me a barn, my friend.” he reached out to grab the young earl’s wrist. “Come down here, you seem faint.” 

Spock seated himself on the edge of the bed but James coaxed him further until he was laying down. For a moment they lay there in silence listening to the sounds of rain pattering down onto the window. 

“I thought it would be strange.” Spock turned to look at him with a searching expression. “To know you as a servant knows their master. Yet I find that not much has changed.” James gave him a devious smile. “Suppose I’ve always been yours to some capacity.” 

“I do not ask for your servitude, James. I simply seek your comradery.”  

“You need not ask, it’s freely given. This comes to me as naturally as flight to a bird.” He gave Spock a serious look. “Your father’s passing made me think about it. When my time comes, I hope I may at least be given some mercy for my good servitude, if nothing else.” 

“Do not speak of such things.” There was a pained look on Spock’s otherwise impassive face. “I should hope that your good nature does you credit, whether under servitude or otherwise.”  

“We all pay for our deeds in life, Spock. So the clergy says.” James murmured, daring to brush Spock’s wrist with his fingers. “I suppose it is up to us to decide what is worth paying for.”  

He felt a tender touch to his hand, fingers sliding in to join with his own. A small breath escaped him. “Whose company is enough to bear the punishment.” 

“In that case.” Spock rolled onto his elbow to look down on his companion, eyes as bottomless and dark as the night. “I believe a few more years of purgatory would be worth your company, if only for a night.” His gaze flickered over James’ features. “Should you allow it?” 

James swallowed. It wasn’t as if he hadn’t known what the implication of his statement was when he had uttered it, he just hadn’t thought Spock would take the challenge offered. Still, he found that he could not turn back now, not with his breath so warm upon his lips and with the hand that had just reached over to touch at his side, light as a feather. Years of burning desire, eros, whatever he should call it had just reared its ugly head, and it wanted Spock with scorching intensity. He may play straight into the devil’s hand but he found that he couldn’t care less at the moment. He would ask for forgiveness later.  

“You could ask for my very soul right now, Spock, and I would give it on a plate of gold.” 

Spock descended upon him, lips burning, as the rain outside grew stronger, tearing leaves from trees, washing the ground and soaking the disgruntled workers in the fields, as if it were the flood once more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had to work so hard not to quote the song of Solomon in this one. I don't think "your eyes are like doves" has quite the same punch when it's in English you know? I do have the Latin translation around here somewhere, as one does, but I think I'll get into that in the next chapter.  
> I don't think there's much to explain in this one? Tell me if there's something you don't get.  
> Also you could play a game called "Which minor Star Trek TOS characters appear in this chapter?"  
> Ooh! And I'm going to another medieval event tomorrow so bop over to tumblr in a few days, I might have some pictures if the rain doesn't get too bad. Also uni starts in like a week or so and guess who's been procrastinating with that whole "requesting student financial aid"? It's me!


	8. Their eyes delight in every gaze

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> On this episode of Two birds Jim tops from the bottom

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Can't believe I missed Spirk day!! Oh well, at least you get some horny stuff, even if it's late :^/  
> Come talk to me on [tumblr](https://inosfe.tumblr.com/)

Spock was aflame, though he was glad to find that it had less to do with any kind of holy smiting and more to do with the way James’ hands were digging into his hair, his clothes, his skin. He was turning into shades of gold and copper beneath Spock’s touch, if he allowed himself a moment of poeticism. His blush was mingling very attractively with his tan and the low-light of his room pulled out shades of red and brown in his hair. He may not have had the fashionable alabaster skin, nor the high forehead or the latest desirable haircut but he was as precious as gold and Spock felt the way he did when he was entrusted with bringing an immeasurably expensive goblet to the local church when he was a child. His lips tasted of Florentine spiced wine, bought at the last summer market, and something sweet and honey-like. He bit and sucked and tasted at them, memorizing the flavors and textures. Should nothing else remain after tonight he would at least have this.

Spock did not have much experience in the field of carnal pleasures, but right at the moment it seemed to matter little. Instinct guided his hand down his companions body to where they were joined, where he felt the burning need most keenly. Both of them shuddered at the touch.

"Spock." his friend hummed against his lips. He tightened his hand. "Spock-oh. I would let you sodomize me, take me as you would a woman."

He pulled back to look down at James with concern, through the haze of pleasure the words had invoked in him.

"I would not demean you like that."

James rolled his hips up impatiently, licking spit from his red lips.

"Not my first ride. You'd be the worthiest one to be sure."

Spock squeezed again, giving himself time to think while James squirmed for more friction.

"I am uncertain- I have never done such a thing before." James stilled against him, panting, eyes glazed over.

"Oh?"

"It has never come up."

James gave a small laugh, bringing a hand down to palm at Spock’s crotch.

"I'm glad we've corrected that."

"That is not what I meant." Spock rasped out.

"I know, I know." He hummed, distracted by the pull of his hand. "I won't press the issue. We'd need some olive oil from the kitchens anyway and I'm not about to go down there like this."

"I should hope not."

"Besides, I have other issues to press here."

He slid his arms down Spock’s sides then hiking up his tunic to better appreciate the issue in question. Spock fumbled with his belt, too far gone to care about the sound of coin slipping out of his pouch, along with the telltale ‘clink’ of his eating knife hitting the ground somewhere behind him. James was down to his hose in a matter of seconds, stretching his muscular, well maintained working body over the bed in a manner that could not be described as anything but wicked. He had a hand wrapped around both himself and Spock, driving them both delirious with a slow, maintained stroke.

Spock couldn’t decide where to put his hands, grabbing at the sheets, at James’ shoulders and finally settling on joining the other in their effort.

“Look at you, with all this unmarred flesh.” Warm, half-lidded eyes roamed Spock’s now mostly naked form, making him blush in entirely new ways. “I- oh! I could paint you in love bites. Would you let me? Would you wear my mark while speaking to those important men who seek your attention? Risk them knowing that you are owned in the most earthly way possible.”

Spock pushed into James’ hand, gasping at the dry friction, closing his eyes to find a way to put thoughts into words.

“I’d- I’d give you a reason to leave them.” He lowered himself down to deliver another bruising kiss. “One day I’ll lay you out over my bed and bring you oils and take you apart-” he sucked in a breath, feeling the last bit of fear leave him under the growing pleasure. “Then you may leave your marks on my skin.”

James gasped against him, shaking like a leaf in the wind, spilling himself over their hands. It was almost too much to watch but Spock could not bear to look away. The image branded itself into his mind as he came into their shared hands, rutting and bucking desperately.

The wind was still pulling at the windows, tossing the rain and cold air at the stone walls but the world was still intact and Spock didn’t feel any less or more doomed than he did before. He was starting to feel a bit cold, however. James, walking furnace as he was, didn’t seem to mind it at all. They settled up against each other, Spock leaching on James’ heat and James basking in the attention, like a cat in the summer sun.

.

The floorboards of the tavern were buckling in the humidity, alerting Pavel to the sound of footsteps on the stairs behind him before they had time to reach him. He turned away from the serving girl he’d been chatting up, ready to dismiss whoever was about to interrupt his evening. He thought better of it when he saw the approaching figures.

A group of men, hooded and cloaked from the tips of their ears to the heels of their shoes, approached him decisively. The leader of the group was shorter than the rest, but it didn’t seem to matter much, with the way air itself seemed to bow to his presence. A pair of piercing eyes were visible behind the shadows of his clothing.

“Pavel? I presume?” His voice was a slow drawl, filled with false aloofness, betrayed by the tightness of his shoulders and the hand gripping the hilt of his knife.

“Y-yes! That would be me!”

“Excellent.” He stepped closer, crowding Pavel into a corner. A quick glance around revealed that most other people in the room had cleared out. Figures thought Pavel. At least the serving girl had stayed behind, though she was starting to look like she was regretting the decision.

“Could you put us on the trail of a certain nobleman? One who perhaps made use of your little...boating service.”

“I- I am not certain-”

“I’d prefer the truth to lies, goodman.”

Pavel swallowed. He should have known coming out west would be trouble. The lawless back in Novgorod had the good manners to be open with their threatening, if nothing else.

“I-I could perhaps be of assistance, but I cannot tell you much. Quiet men, you see.”

“Every little bit helps.” one of the others said. He was larger than the rest and dressed in fine cloth from head to toe. His voice was dripping with honey, though Pavel had the feeling it was the bad, bitter kind.

 “I’ll see what I can do.”

“Why I should hope so. We have heard ever so much of your helpful nature.” the leader intoned. “We should take a walk to the docks. Get to know each other better.”

“Ah, yes.” Pavel worked his brain. There was no way out of this one, but he could reach out. If only he knew someone- "Will you allow me to say goodbye to the good maiden first?”

The man glanced between the two of them suspiciously before nodding, flashing a toothy grin to the girl.

“Of course. Pray forgive us for depriving you of your company.”

“It is no bother.” she answered carefully, giving Pavel a questioning look. He took her by the hand, leaning in for a parting kiss to the cheek. Before he pulled away completely, he gave her a few instructions on his breath, with the promise of coin and a pleading look he knew to be disarming. She kept her face neutral, but a small press of her hand told him all he needed to know.

“Go well, Pavel.”

“You too.”

.

The rain was finally dying down, reduced to a small ‘pat pat pat’. The fireplace was still burning, luckily enough. Spock would have to leave soon, he knew, but he was currently busy exploring the planes of James’ back, running his hands over his sides, bestowing a kiss upon a particularly unpleasant looking bruise. James seemed pleased with sinking his head into Spock’s discarded robes that lay on the bed in a heap and sliding a hand against the soft silks and rough furs. Then he stilled.

“What have we here?”

From the piles he pulled out a small, leather bound book with corner pieces fashioned into small roses. Spock blushed, burying his head in James’ neck, breathing in his smell.

“Nothing you need concern yourself with, I am sure.”

This was clearly the wrong thing to say. Gone was the idleness from James’ form, replaced by curiosity. He opened the book where a dry leaf of the apple trees served as a bookmark.

_ “The hunted stag whose thirst is sore does not desire the fountain more, nor does the sparrow hawk return to hand, more swiftly, its food to earn-” _ Spock buried himself further into James’ neck, already dreading what was about to come next.  _ “Then did these two come together, In close embrace, the naked lovers, that single night compensating for their long hours of waiting-” _ He let out a soft laugh.

“A needlessly sentimental...gift from my mother. It has been some time. I was younger.”

“Needlessly sentimental?”

 “Indulgent.”

“And this is not indulgent?” James asked twisting around to look at Spock. His eyes were so warm.”Is this not...sentimental?”

Spock stopped to consider this. Perhaps it was sentimental. Dangerously so. Instead of answering he turned James around gently. The book slipped from his hands, falling back into the safety of his clothing. It was easy to say in so many other words but now they failed him completely. Something in his eyes must have betrayed his inner second guessing, because the teasing look faded from James’ features.  Calloused hands pulled him into an embrace, working over his back, rubbing his shoulders.

“I know.” James whispered. “We will work it out, you and I.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I've been busy studying my ass off and also having an existential crisis, as one does, but here's chapter 8! At this rate I'm looking at about 20 to 22 chapters to get all of my plot points in order, which isn't unreasonable.  
> I always forget what I was planning to write in the notes. I guess I could mention the thing about the eating knife. Medieval Europe didn't really have any proper cutlery and people carried around an eating knife so they could chow down wherever. It therefore follows that Spock is probably carrying around some ridiculously ornate piece of metal to have his meals with. It took a while for pockets to be a thing, so you'd carry all of this stuff on your belt, sometimes under your outermost layer of clothing to avoid pickpockets (pick pouches? no pockets, remember). Some clothes had small slits so you could reach in to get your stuff without looking like you're about to undress right then and there. Pockets as we know them started appearing around the 1600s (in Europe anyway).  
> The quote is, once more, from Érec et Énide by Chrétien De Troyes, translated into English by A. S. Kline, found on www.poetryintranslation.com


End file.
